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[rednecking]

❝ I'm probably ignorin' this thing, so leave a message at your own risk. ❞

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[redatheart]

[They're both going to regret this.

Sayid pushes open the door with his shoulder. The reason for this is that he has two decent sized bottles of what is presumably alcohol cradled in his other arm. One of them is taller, a pale blueish green. The other is stouter, and is a dark brown.

True to his word!]

I didn't bring glasses.

[Just...because. Hello.]

[rednecking]

[Sayid will immediately notice the lack of personal touch to Sawyer's room; unlike his space on the island, or even the small hut he had while working for Dharma, there's nothing really indicating that he's been there as long as he has . . . save for the pile of books next to his bed, maybe.

And the ring sitting out in plain sight.

Sawyer sits up straight, shrugging a shoulder and jerking his head back to the door] If you wanna be all classy 'bout it, there's glasses in the kitchen. But I don't give a crap.

[he gestures to the bed, inviting Sayid to sit if he wants. It's going to be a long night]

[redatheart]

[Oh, he certainly notices the ring. If only because it's the sole personal item at all. That's interesting. But they probably have larger things to deal with and potentially antagonizing Sawyer by asking about it seems less than strategical.

Sayid sets the drinks down, thinks about whether he's really interested in the level of familiarity that drinking straight out of the bottle with Sawyer suggests, and then nods before turning around and heading for the door again.]

One moment.

[Definitely getting a couple of glasses. Sorry not sorry.

When he comes back, he does take Sawyer up on that offer to sit on the bed, handing over one of the glasses.]

[rednecking]

[he isn't surprised in the least, but he doesn't care much, either. It's alcohol, it'll get into his system and help him through this conversation no matter how he drinks it, and that's what's important.

When Sayid finally settles down, he runs a hand through his hair, making a disgruntled noise. Nope, not even the prospect of getting drunk makes him want to do this any more]

All right, let's review first. Last thing you remember is bein' locked up, right? And Kyriakos?

[redatheart]

Exactly, yes. I remember you trying to convince me to escape. And then Kyriakos.

[...And refusing to do it because he'd decided he needed to kill Ben. Something he absolutely has mixed feelings about now.

He also uncorks the stouter bottle, pouring a very little for himself and...more for Sawyer.]

[rednecking]

[that's a good idea, because as soon as the glass is in his hands he downs the whole drink in one go]

Right, that. [a scowl] You should've freakin' listened to me.

[redatheart]

[....Here Sawyer, you can just have the bottle. Sayid will keep the second one. It's lighter anyway.

Just because he doesn't think he was right anymore about Ben doesn't mean he's going to just agree with Sawyer. Which means Sayid just shrugs in response.]

Perhaps.

[rednecking]

"Perhaps"? Guess you don't remember bein' forced to tell the truth, huh.

Or me tryin' to convince you leave and even givin' you a way out and you bein' a hardass about listening again.

[redatheart]

I remember those things.

[Look at this asshole.]

[rednecking]

[any other time Sawyer would take great joy on calling him on it, too. Now? It just seems like the next step in the conversation]

Ain't I the one who's supposed to be the asshole?

[he takes a long, long sip from the bottle]

D'you remember the kid?

[no name, not yet. He's going to find out exactly how much Sayid knows before he even starts the rest of the story]

[redatheart]

[They can both occasionally be assholes. Not that Sayid is admitting to that.

But the second Sawyer mentions the "kid", even without naming him, Sayid's attention is drawn down to the glass in his hands. Ben.

The look on his face is somber and slightly conflicted.]

I remember him.

[rednecking]

[now we're getting somewhere. Sawyer deliberately takes another drink, then sets the bottle down]

Remember shooting him?

[he was never one to sugarcoat things, so there's no point in starting now]

[redatheart]

[If he were any less self-controlled, he might have breathed in sharply at that. Or something betraying his discomfort with the idea. As it is, his fingers just curl a little more tightly around his glass.]

...No. But I remember deciding that doing it was the purpose for which I'd been brought back to the island.